


darkling

by beastfucker (loghain)



Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacles, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16221128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loghain/pseuds/beastfucker
Summary: they’re together, and that’s the important thing. they can carve out something in the gloomiest corners of existence when it’s just them. // eddie (trans masc) & the symbiote, nsfw. pwp.





	darkling

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr: beastfucker  
> this fic on tumblr: http://beastfucker.tumblr.com/post/178786198817  
> originally posted on my eddie brock rp blog: protecteeth  
> every comment / kudos / tumblr reblog keeps me going thanks!

their apartment is little more than a dark hole in a dark building.  it’s a place to sleep,  to recover  …  but it’s not a home.  it’s just a place to be.  you can’t make a home out of a place like this,  it’s just  -  not possible.  not for them.  but they’re together,  and that’s the important thing,  and they can carve out something in the gloomiest corners of existence when it’s just them.

and  —  when it’s  _just them_ —

the black that  _is_  the symbiote doesn’t quite envelop him,  not the way it does when they’re venom;  it oozes,  and seeps,  wrapped around eddie’s thighs and encouraging them apart.  it’s warm,  because it’s  _alive_ ,  because it’s always inside him and around him  —  speaking of  _inside him_ ,  he turns his head and buries his face into the pillow that’s in the crook of his arm as tendrils stick and creep and _probe_.  gently,  questioning,  curious,  looking  -

 **“** love,  **”**   eddie exhales,   **“**  i need  —   **”**  
_we know what you need, eddie._

of course it does.  they share thoughts and feelings the way of breathing,  instinctual,  natural,  effortless most of the time;  so the symbiote knows to seep over him, lines like fingers dragging across his stomach, down between his thighs and toying with his clit in the way that makes a shudder roll,  hot-cold,  shivery,  down his spine like liquid.   _we know what you need,  eddie,_   croons in his ear again,  and then,   _we want to hear you,_   and eddie surrenders a broken moan,  muffled into the pillow.

the symbiote doesn’t get off.  at least,  not in the way a human does;  something about eddie getting off does  _something_  for it,  though,  and the more they do this,  the bigger its appetite gets,  doing things like  -  like asking eddie to give it responses,  to open himself up.  and eddie gives in,  gives over,  every time,  never sure how he can want this so much from it and still  _always_  answering its call.

it’s not like this with other people.  when it’s they,  venom,  with someone else  -  they are all teeth,  all edges,  all snarls,  claws digging in hips.  this quiet,  startled soft is for them  _alone_.  the noise eddie makes when one of the symbiote’s tendrils thickens and presses inside him and  _pulses,_ and  _grows  -_   a sound of choked off relief  -  is only heard here.

 **(**   it knows when he’s ready.  from the pace of his breathing,  the squirm and twitch of his body,  hips canting with asking.  he doesn’t _have_  to ask,  though,  is the point.  and he doesn’t always like this,  and the symbiote knows then,  too.   **)**

_you need this fast today,  eddie.  you need to come.  you want us to come,  too?_

he groans,  rough and low and cut off,  and tries to bear down against the solid length of inky darkness inside him.   **“**  baby,  **”**   he gasps,   **“**  c’mon,  please,  **”**   and it obliges,  burying deep and fast,  tugging his legs apart,  skimming and pressing over his ribs,  his chest,  his stomach,  holding him down,  jerking off his clit.  like hands _everywhere_   -  but so obviously not hands,  and something about that makes it better,  feeling this  _creature,_ this alien,  his alien,  inside him,  around him,  encompassing.

_tell us you want it._

eddie makes a frustrated noise.  the symbiote’s response is a rush of delight,  knowing it’s pulling on all of his strings.   **“**  come inside me, **”**   he asks,  and the symbiote purrs in his mind,  in his body,  and eddie’s broken open with a pathetic whimper.  of want,  of,  of  _close_ \-  you can’t just make sounds like that,  baby,  i’m gonna come,  and he doesn’t realise he’s fallen back on telepathy until he hears his own panting in his ears.

_then come.  and we will too.  give you everything you want,  eddie._

his orgasm hits him nearly painfully;  it’s always shocking,  always sends him twitching and gasping,  fists balling into the pillow,  into the sheets  -  and instead of relenting or pulling out or finding _some_  way to ease off,  the tendril swells and pulses.  too big,  nearly,  too much,  nearly,  with eddie spasming against it.  the pooling warmth that follows encourages out shaky sighs,  eddie rolling onto his back and dropping a hand to his stomach.

the symbiote doesn’t get off.  it does this,  the pseudo in particular,  for eddie.   _we know you like to feel full._ he used to feel ashamed of wanting that.  not anymore.  all of the symbiote’s tendrils retract,  withdraw,  and eddie inhales sharply.  emptier,  now,  but not  _empty_ ;  he can feel thick black fluid dribble out of him obscenely when he shifts.   **(** he doesn’t need to look to know it’s as black as the symbiote itself;  they’ve done this before.  other times,  they’ve done this with one of those tendrils in eddie’s mouth,  or in his hands  -  **)**

yes,  emptier,  emptying,  but not  _empty_ ;  the symbiote wraps around his limbs and settles,  comfortable,  comforting,  a weighty living blanket,  a lover.  sometimes once isn’t enough.  today,  it is.  they fall asleep together.


End file.
